So You Think You Can Dance
by eight 0f hearts
Summary: Captain orders his minions to perform a dance, but fulfilling his wish isn't easy. Now Pilot and Snippy have set off on an epic quest to find "trust" - but, as usual, nothing goes according to plan. - COLLAB -
1. In Search of Trust

**Disclaimer: We owneth not.  
**

**Collab between _eight 0f hearts _and _temarcia_. Chapters are by both of us.  
**

* * *

"You want us to _what_?" Snippy asked.

The Captain was dancing with a skeleton. Clutching at its bony hand, with his other arm around its waist, he spun and twirled gracefully around the room. One of the skeleton's feet fell off and flew through the air, hitting Snippy in the face.

"Dance, Mr Snippy! Join me in this stupefying waltz!"

Snippy shook his head. "Aside from the fact that you're not actually _waltzing_... no. There's no way I'm dancing with Pilot."

This with a glance across at said pilot, who was sitting nearby happily humming some rather off-key music for Captain to dance to.

Captain froze mid-twirl, head turning slowly to fix Snippy with a disconcerting stare.

"You disobey your Captain?" he demanded.

Snippy shifted uncomfortably. "Can we do something else instead?" he asked a bit lamely.

Captain dropped the skeleton with a clatter and strode across to Snippy. Grabbing his arm, he dragged him over to Pilot, who by now had jumped to his feet and was standing to attention, waiting for orders.

"It is really quite simple," Captain explained. He picked up Snippy's hand and placed it on Pilot's shoulder, moved Pilot's hand to Snippy's waist, and clasped their other hands together. "And then – you dance! Simple as that! Now go! Do a tango for me!"

"A what-" Snippy was cut off as Pilot began bouncing around, humming dramatic music as he dragged Snippy every which way.

"Come on, Snippy!" he cried. "You heard the Captain! Dance, you jiggly slug!"

Snippy stumbled around, unable to keep up with Pilot's erratic movements. Finally he tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground, dragging Pilot down with him.

Pilot let out an indignant screech.

"Snippy! You nincompoop! You must have two left shoes!" he shrieked, untangling himself from the sniper and clambering to his feet. "Captain, can I dance with you instead?"

"No, my Pilot." Captain began to stride up and down the room, his hands clasped behind his back. "That was simply abominable. That boobery was not _dancing_. It would be blasphemy to call it so."

"Sorry?" Snippy offered, getting up and brushing himself down. "Look, I can't dance. Let's do something els-"

"Do not interrupt zee Captain!" Captain cut in, raising a hand sharply. "Mr Snippy, I am ashamed of you. You flounder with all the grace of a mentally deficient beluga. You have scarred my eyes for life with those offensive movements."

Pilot raised his hands to his ears and wiggled his fingers at Snippy.

"This is unacceptable. My minions must be competent at all forms of dance," Captain continued, stroking his chin. "The tango. The waltz. The cha-cha-cha. Not to mention the sprinkler, the lawnmower and the flushing-dunny."

Snippy blinked.

Captain clapped his hands together sharply. "I will perform a demonstration for you. Observe carefully. And then the two of you will practice, and practice some more... and until you can re-create my movements, you are not worthy to be called my minions!"

Pilot gasped.

Snippy resisted the urge to face-palm.

"From the top, Pilot!" Captain ordered, picking up the fallen skeleton again.

Pilot launched into a rather warbling rendition of Beethoven's Symphony No.9, a few octaves too high.

Captain began to dance again. It was a very elaborate dance, with a lot of dramatic sweeping of the arms, bending the skeleton back a near 90 degree angle, and spinning around fast enough to make Snippy feel quite nauseous.

Pilot's humming built up to a crescendo, and finally, on the most ear-piercing note, the Captain hoisted the skeleton up above his head in a dramatic lift.

It would have been impressive if the skeleton's skull hadn't chosen that moment to fall off, rolling across the floor to rest at Snippy's feet.

"_That,_ meine minions," Captain said smugly, "is dancing."

Snippy shook his head slowly. "There's no way I can do that. Especially not with Pilot."

"Cease thy verbiage," Captain told him. "If you must complain, do it mentally, so it does not pollute my ears. Now, I shall be going out, and when I return I expect you to be ready to perform!"

And with that, he flounced out the door, taking the headless skeleton with him.

"You heard the Captain! Let's get to it!" There was a rather menacing glint in Pilot's eye as he turned to Snippy and held out his hands expectantly.

Snippy gulped.

* * *

Mr Snippy was the worst dancing partner Pilot could ever have asked for. Not only did the shoe have no talent, he also had a terrible attitude. All he did was complain. "Why can't _you_ be the girl?", "Slow down! I feel sick…", or "You put that hand there one more time and I'm gonna kill you."

Which part of the order had the slug not understood? The two of them had to perform the most amazing dance, and charm the Captain with it, otherwise they would be doomed! Dancing was a mission of great importance, and Pilot did not want to fail.

Unfortunately, it looked like anybody – even skeletons – could do better than the sniper. The Dead might not be very interactive, but at least they knew how to have fun. And Snipster was so…

"Tsss!" Pilot hissed as Snippy stepped on his foot again. "You're doing that on purpose, aren't you?"

"Oh, yes. Of course!" Sniper mocked. "And it was my idea to practise this stupid dance, right?"

"If you were better, there would be no need to practise."

"If you were smarter, we wouldn't be doing this in the first place!"

They both crossed their arms and exchanged angry glares.

"You think I want to dance with you? Well, I don't! I don't even like you!" Pilot was seriously annoyed. He decided that someone had to tell that ugly sneaker the truth. It was high time for him to start behaving properly. "You are mean, Snippy! Mean, stubborn, and boring! And you still think you are so smart! Well guess what? You're not!" he emphasised his words with an accusing hand gesture. "Nobody would want to dance with you! I'm doing it only because of Captain. I wish I were_ his_ partner, instead of that sluggish skeleton."

As soon as he said that, he realised that Mr Snippy wasn't the main cause of his misery. It was that Dead one's fault! That skeleton was stealing his beloved Captain! It had to be some kind of conspiracy. No one should be trusted! The only person Pilot could rely on right now was Pilot himself, and of course the Captain.

However, Captain had left with that headless plotter. They had been gone for some time. They might be dancing, or playing PlayStation games, or doing other awesome things by now. Meanwhile, Pilot was stuck with Snippy, here. None of them was able to do a thing about it. If they have performed better, they would have been having a good time with the Captain. Obtaining high-level dancing skills seemed to be necessary for beating that skeleton and regaining their leader's love and appreciation.

Pilot turned to his partner, about to say what a very serious problem they had. Suddenly he saw that Snippy was no longer there. That shoe had walked away while Pilot was visualising the evil plot of the Dead.

"Snippy!" he called.

There was no answer.

Pilot left the building in a rush. He spotted the other minion at the end of a street.

"Wait for me!" he shouted, running after Sniper. But still the man didn't stop. He marched on, pretending not to hear Pilot.

Finally, Pilot managed to catch up. "Where are you going, Snippy?" he asked, panting heavily. "We should be practising."

"I thought that you didn't want to."

"I don't, but I have to…" Pilot sounded pitiful. He was about to say something more, but he was cut off.

"Look, you don't have to," said Sniper, his voice rather sharp. "Neither do I. I'm going to find the Captain and tell him that we won't be dancing to entertain him. That's humiliating!"

"No! Don't do it, Snippy!" Pilot pulled at the other man's sleeve hard enough to turn him around. "You can't tell the Captain. He will be mad at us, and that is exactly what they want!"

Irritated, Snippy tried to pull his hand out of Pilot's grip. "They? What _they_?" he asked, struggling.

"The Dead People!" The answer came at once. "They started the rebellion! One of them is tantalizing the Captain with its Danse Macabre! It already took our place! We have to get rid of it, before it's too late!"

Mr Snippy just stood there in silence.

"Oh, my God…" he said slowly, after a long moment. "You are unbelievable. You are jealous of a skeleton… That is just… I can't even name it."

"I'm not jealous, you jellyfish!" Pilot shouted at him. Not that he cared what exactly Snippy meant by calling him jealous. That sounded offensive, and he wouldn't let anyone insult him. Especially not that jiggly slug! "Don't you get it? This is a state of emergency!"

Or maybe that shoe knew it all along? Maybe he was involved? He might have helped those dead insurgents. Now, he was deliberately sabotaging the dance.

"I won't let you ruin this performance…" he muttered under his breath, more to himself then to his interlocutor.

Sniper was about to walk away, when Pilot grabbed his hand once again. The next moment, Mr Snippy lost his balance, and couldn't do a thing about being lifted from the ground. All that he exclaimed was "BWAH!"

"Outstretched arms!" Pilot demanded "Like an airplane! And try to look cooler than that slimy skeleton."

"Put me down, you idiot!" yelled Snippy, less confused and definitely more furious by now. "What the hell are you…" he never finished, because Pilot abruptly dropped him.

Sniper hit the ground with a loud thud. He uttered obscenities before getting up.

"Why did you do that!" he gave Pilot the death glare.

It had no results, at all.

"This is for your lack of cooperation," Pilot explained "Let's try the lift once again. It's quite fun."

* * *

Snippy was decidedly unimpressed.

For the last ten minutes since they had returned to the base he had been unable to escape Pilot's Death Grip of Doom, the other man clutching his hands so tightly he could practically feel his bones scraping together. As if that wasn't bad enough, Pilot was moving far too fast for him to keep up with.

"Go, Snippy, go!" the madman chanted. "Left, right, cha-cha-cha! Forward, back, cha-cha-cha!"

_Kill me now, _Snippy thought miserably. He was fairly certain that Captain had only forced him into this stupid dance to annoy him and raise his blood pressure – well, wasn't that always the Captain's intention?

"Even the skeleton could dance better than you, you two minute noodle!" Pilot mocked. "Move your feet!"

"I _am _moving them," Snippy retorted. It was somewhat embarrassing, having to be corrected by _Pilot_ of all people.

The sound of boots on concrete and the loud slamming of a door alerted them to Captain's return. He strode into the room just in time to see Snippy tread on Pilot's foot again and send them both tumbling to the floor.

It was rather alarming, looking up from the ground to see a most unamused Captain looming over oneself.

"Atten-SHUN!" Captain bellowed. "Both of you, assume a vertically upright position! Now!"

They both scrambled to their feet.

"Minions," Captain said sternly, "I am exceedingly unimpressed."

Snippy swallowed. He contemplated, as he usually did, opening his mouth to give Captain a piece of his mind – letting him know exactly _what _he thought of his stupid plans and his madcap schemes. But, as always, he kept these thoughts to himself.

_Why do I put up with this? _He thought as Captain launched into a rant about their non-existent dancing abilities.

_Because you have nowhere else to go._

"Captain," Pilot said, "I tried my hardest to be a worthy minion. But Mr Snippy undermined my efforts left, right and centre!"

Pilot's eyes kept darting between Captain and the open door. Snippy knew that he was looking for – that skeleton, the one Captain had left with but returned without. He felt almost sorry for Pilot – it was like watching a pathetic little puppy dog striving for its master's affections.

Okay, Pilot as a dog. That was one mental image he could do without.

"Demonstrate for me," Captain ordered, folding his arms. "This is your chance to redeem yourselves! Show me the lift."

That friggin' _lift_. It was the most ridiculous part of the whole thing. Snippy took a step back as Pilot approached him, arms outstretched.

"Snippy!" Pilot said, his usually bouncy demeanour now frustrated.

"You dropped me deliberately before. There's no way you're picking me up again," Snippy snapped. _Not to mention the fact that it's incredibly awkward when you lift me up like that._

Captain tutted. "You see?" he said. "This is the crux of the matter. The lack of trust. Dancing is an art, formed between two people! Without trust, there is nothing!"

"Then I guess this is a hopeless task," Snippy pointed out, "Because I certainly don't trust him." _Not after that little feed-Snippy-to-the-whale incident. Bad memories..._

Captain clapped his hands together sharply. "I have a new mission for you!" he declared.

Pilot perked up a bit. "No more dancing?"

"Not at the current moment." Captain reached into his coat and produced a scrap of paper and a rather stubby pencil. He scrawled a word on the paper and thrust it at Snippy.

"What is this?" Snippy asked, squinting at it.

"A shopping list!"

"You want us to find you a truck?"

"No, Mr Snippy," Captain said patiently. "_Trust_. That is an s. And that's a t. Do you require glasses, or perhaps reading lessons?"

"Neither," Snippy muttered. "It's just your handwriting."

"Captain, I don't understand the mission," Pilot piped up.

"Go, go!" Captain put a hand on each of their shoulders and propelled them towards the doorway. "Go and find the trust! Don't return until you have it!"

"You can't just find trust-" Snippy broke off as Captain shoved him out the door and slammed it behind them.

Pilot was jumping around happily. "This is an easier mission," he said gleefully.

"No," Snippy murmured, "It really isn't."

"Let's go, Snippy! What does trust look like?" Pilot asked, peering around.

Snippy sighed. "Let's just go and look for supplies, we're running out of food," he suggested, trudging off.

Pilot skipped after him. "You can't ignore Captain's mission like that!"

"I'm not. I'm... multitasking. How about you go look for the trust, and I'll go look for the supplies?"

"No, we have to stick together," Pilot said. "Wait! I think I know where the trust is."

"Where?" Snippy asked, with a long-suffering sigh.

"I saw it once. It was glorious. It was large, and had a strange aura around it," Pilot continued. "It was deep inside a magical crater."

Snippy was getting a bad feeling about this. "What shape was it?"

Pilot made a few hand gestures.

"Pilot, that's not trust, that sounds like an undetonated bomb. Stay away from it."

"You mean a zooming aardvark?"

"I have no idea how 'nuclear bomb' became 'zooming aardvark' in your mind, but sure. Just don't go near it," Snippy warned.

"Fine."

It was at that moment that, out of the blue, a gunshot rang out through the landscape, and a traffic light nearby exploded in a shower of glass. Snippy dropped to the ground, snatching up his rifle as he looked around for whoever was shooting at them.

"Pilot, get down!" he hissed.

There was another gunshot and shards of green glass rained down on Snippy. He raised his own gun and fired in the direction the shots had been coming from.

Suddenly there were three large men surrounding them, pointing rather ominously large weapons. Snippy abruptly found himself staring down the barrel of a machine gun.

"Get up," the wielder of the weapon snapped.

Snippy looked up and sighed. Hostile waste-landers. Just brilliant. He clambered to his feet.

"Drop the weapon," the man added, and Snippy, gritting his teeth reluctantly, let his rifle fall with a clang. _What is the point of having this thing if I always end up having to put it down anyway?_

He glanced over at Pilot, but suddenly pain exploded at the back of his head as he was struck with some sort of blunt object.

_This day just keeps getting better and better, _was his last thought before everything faded to black.

* * *

**Review and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated ~ =)**

**Thanks for reading.**


	2. The Armadillo Man

**Disclaimer: We owneth not.  
**

**Collab between _eight 0f hearts _and _temarcia_. Chapters are by both of us.**

* * *

The first thing he noticed was a dull pain.

It didn't bother him much.

Pilot couldn't tell how many times he'd gotten his head hurt. Things like that seemed to happen to him on a regular basis.

The unpleasant feeling was familiar. Much more disturbing was another feeling – the strange sensation of being touched. It made him open his eyes wide.

What he saw was a man in a gas mask methodically checking his pockets. Puzzled by this unusual scene, Pilot didn't say a word. He glanced at the guy. Then he closed his eyes. When he opened them once more, the man still stood before him. It wasn't Pilot's imagination. The stranger definitely existed. He wore some kind of helmet that gave him an appearance of an armadillo.

"Hey," a deep voice came from the other side of the tiny room. "The green one is awake!"

Pilot wasn't able to recognise that voice, but it certainly didn't belong to the Captain. It didn't sound like someone he knew... and it definitely didn't sound friendly.

"Go on and ask him about the stuff we found on him." Another unfamiliar voice could be heard. This one sounded almost smug. "There was... let's see... plasticine, a shoestring, some paper clips, a deflated balloon, and a stone. Does he think he's MacGyver or something?"

The two burst into rather nasty laughter. Pilot had no idea what was so funny. That might be because he had never heard of MacGyver before. However, he didn't feel like laughing for more than that reason.

First of all, these fellows shouldn't have touched his things without permission. Secondly, they were wasting Pilot's time with this boobery. Captain wasn't going to wait for the "trust" forever. Last but not least, they called his magical Thundererstone a mere stone. That was pure ignorance!

"I found something more," said the armadillo-helmet man, who had been silent until now. Pilot looked at him and froze in terror. That dirty shoe had found the two most precious artefacts that were kept hidden in the inner pocket of his jacket. The unworthy hand held the holy picture and the reminder, as if those treasures meant absolutely nothing. It was a despicable act of profanation!

"This time it's something interesting," the guy continued. "Some kind of device. This may be useful. It looks like part of a neural interface."

The armadillo man was about to show his find to the others when Pilot protested.

"That is my blue tiara!"

After a moment of awkward silence, the trio of strangers broke into laughter. They sounded like a bunch of hyenas. That only made Pilot more angry.

"It's mine! Give that back!" he shouted, and tried to reach out his hand. That was when he found out that he was unable to do so. His arms were tied to a rusted hot water pipe in the corner of the room. It was impossible to move any farther from there. Panicked, he looked around the place. He realised that Snippy was beside him. The lazy cat seemed to be sleeping. How could he sleep in these circumstances?

Pilot struggled desperately, driven by sudden urge to freed himself. Mr Snippy had probably felt the same way when he had been attached to the bow of their ship, dressed like a little mermaid. No wonder he had been so mad. Now, Pilot was having a similar experience.

"Want it back?" the thief asked, and started to wave the tiara in Pilot's face, mocking. "Then take it. What's the matter? You can't? That's what I thought."

"Let me go, you shoe! I have no time for this! I'm in a middle of very important mission!"

"Let's gag him. He's annoying," the deep-voiced guy suggested, apparently getting tired.

"No. Let him speak," ordered the armadillo man, who seemed to be in charge. "Who knows what we can learn from our little guest."

Pilot found it surprising that he was being called "little" by someone so short.

"Well?" the small guy eyed him, apparently expecting some story. "Tell us about your mission," he added, when he didn't receive the desired information.

"I refuse!" Pilot said stiffly. He was still uncomfortable with the thought of being kept here against his will. However, the unexpected question about his mission made him feel more confident. After all, he was a soldier of the most glorious army in the world. He had nothing to fear. Sooner or later, everything would end up well.

"You are not authorised for the details of that mission," he added. "Captain's orders are for Captain's minions' ears only!"

Pilot did not remember the last time when he had been so proud. It might have been that day when Captain approved his flying machine made of sticks and feathers. Anyway, to prove himself as a faithful minion in front of the leader – that was the easy way. The hardest challenge involved doing the right thing, even though Captain would never know.

For a moment, Pilot felt almost happy. But the very next feeling was a painful one. He stopped breathing as he was hit in the chest with a butt stock of the machine gun. As he finally took a breath, it hurt. Talking would probably hurt as well.

"Tell me about your mission," the cold voice repeated slowly. The little armadillo definitely wasn't a nice kind of guy.

Pilot remained silent, not willing to talk to that bully. He closed his eyes, prepared for another hit that was sure to come. However, that didn't happen.

"We were looking for supplies."

Pilot instantly recognised who spoke. It was Mr Snippy. He had woken up at last.

"That was an ordinary mission," the jiggly slug continued. "You're wasting your time asking him questions. He doesn't know anything. He's nutty as a fruitcake."

"Hey!" Pilot was about to protest, but he sounded rather pathetic.

_Why does Snippy have to be so mean? Maybe he didn't sleep well?_

"Yeah, he looks like one of those freaks," the smug-voiced man piped up. "Who else would keep all of this junk?"

Hearing him made Pilot furious again.

"Those are magical items, you stupid skunk!" he cried, and then turned to face the evil leader. "Hands off of my tiara and the icon, or…"

"Or what?" he was cut off.

The man seemed to be sneering behind his mask.

"Don't let him provoke you," Snippy whispered, but it was far too late for that.

"Or you're gonna be cursed!" Pilot began uttering threats. Every time Snipster had acted insolently, he used to do the same thing. "You shall see the wrath of God! You shall see Hell, and darkness, and sorrow! Beware the Almighty Captain, because he is the Alpha and the Omega! He will punish you for your sins!"

That sinister armadillo didn't look as terrified as Pilot thought he should be.

"So, I'll be punished by the one you called 'Captain'?" the guy asked, and showed the photo to Pilot – the same one he had taken from him earlier. It was the holy picture, with the word "Messiah" written on it. "Is this what he looks like?"

Pilot nodded in assent.

Then, the most horrible of all horrible things happened.

The man tore up the photo.

* * *

The sound Pilot made was not human.

Snippy closed his eyes and tried to tune out the cacophony of Pilot's wails and threats, the sniggers and taunts from their captors, and the annoying drip-drip-drip of the water pipe next to his head. It didn't help that he had a splitting headache from where he'd been hit over the head with... whatever they'd hit him over the head with.

"Snippy! Snippy!" Pilot screeched into his ear, and Snippy slowly turned his head to look at him.

"What?"

"This is not the time to take a nap!" Pilot informed him angrily. He jerked his head towards the wastelanders, who were standing over the two of them, radiating smug amusement. "These bumtrinkets have blasphemed against Captain! They-"

"Amusing as this is, I think we've heard just about enough from you," the leader of the three cut in cheerfully. "So I suggest you shut your mouth before we do something drastic, like staple your lips together."

"Shhh, Pilot," Snippy murmured, and thankfully, the pilot fell silent, apparently still a little shellshocked from the horror of witnessing Captain's glorious image being torn in two.

"What do you want?" Snippy asked wearily, looking up at them. "We don't have any supplies for you. You've already taken my gun."

"That's a nice jacket."

Snippy cringed mentally. "Take the jacket, then," he said through gritted teeth. "Then let us go."

"Nah, I don't think we'll be doing that," the man replied, still sounding disarmingly friendly. "Where've you been getting your supplies from?"

Pilot bumped Snippy with his elbow and slurred something along the lines of "_Don't tell him anything!"_

Snippy ignored him. "Nowhere special. Just scavenging in the rubbish and the old supermarkets. We don't have any hidden stashes of food, if that's what you were thinking."

"Hm." The man tilted his head. "So you're pretty useless then. What's to stop me shooting you right now?"

His henchman stepped forward and pointed his gun at Snippy's face. The sniper swallowed, feeling his heart rate jump to about three times faster.

"Because..." he began slowly, racking his brains for an answer. All he could come up with was a rather uncreative: "...you have no good reason to kill us?"

The man scoffed. "Ain't got no reason to keep you alive, either. The less people there are in this god-forsaken wasteland, the more food there is for the rest of us." To Snippy's great relief, he gestured for his friend to lower the weapon.

"But today's your lucky day. Have you ever been to the Supabarn on the East side of the city?"

_Zee Barn of Supa_, as Captain called it. He'd once ordered Snippy to go there and fetch him some 'awesomesauce'. Snippy had refused. The place was perilously close to where one of the bombs had fallen, and radiation levels were sky high. It also seemed to be a source of attraction for the worst of the mutated beasts that roamed the wasteland.

Snippy nodded slowly. "It's a hellhole. Mutants everywhere."

"Exactly." Though he couldn't tell behind the helmet, Snippy got the impression the man was grinning insanely. "That's why we need someone to act as monster bait."

Oh.

_Oh._

Snippy grimaced. "Look," he offered a touch frantically, "Why don't you let us go and we'll help you find supplies somewhere else-"

He broke off when the guy kicked him hard in the chest, catching him by surprise and winding him rather badly.

"Stop running your tongue for a minute," the man said calmly while Snippy coughed and spluttered. "I've already established that we're not gonna let you go. You and your deranged friend here will provide a nice luncheon to distract the monsters while we sneak in, get the supplies, and sneak back out. That's what's going to happen; no ifs, buts or ands about it."

Snippy stared up at him.

Pilot seemed to find his voice at that moment. "You won't get away with this!" he screeched. "Just you wait – the Captain will descend upon you in all his magnificence and you will be incinerated by the sheer awesomeness of his presence! You foot-faced munchfumbles! You corn-headed anklepuffs!"

The man chuckled and reached down to pat Pilot condescendingly on the head. "Whatever you say, you deluded little turd," he said, then turned and strode out of the room, clicking his fingers for his two thugs to follow him out.

The door slammed behind them, the sound of a bolt sliding shut following shortly after.

"Twerpbum faceclots! Dip-knuckled nitloafs! Numb-beef _shoeheads_!" Pilot continued to shout.

Snippy closed his eyes again, feeling a headache forming. _Okay. This isn't good. _He snorted. _Understatement of the century._ _We have to get out of here._

"Pilot," he interrupted when the other man paused for breath. "Impressive as your menagerie of insults is, it's distracting me from thinking of a way out of here."

"Don't worry, Mr Snippy, Captain will save us," Pilot said confidently. "He will annihilate the little armadillo man!"

Snippy blinked. "Armadillo...? ...ah.I suppose he did kind of look like one."

"And his friends, Smugvoice and Deepvoice, will burn along with him," Pilot continued. "All we have to do is wait for Captain."

Snippy shook his head. He looked around the room – wherever they were, it was decidedly more intact than most of the other buildings in the city. The walls were solid and the door didn't look like it could be broken down, not without a battering ram of some sort.

He tugged at his bonds. There was a hot water pipe running across the length of the room and leading up to the ceiling. His hands were tied behind his back, looped around the pipe and then connected to Pilot's bonds – effectively tying the two of them together, with the pipe in the middle.

Snippy yanked at the bindings – they were made of some sort of thick plastic cord, and didn't seem like they'd break any time soon.

Snippy tugged again. The cords held, but the water pipe rattled – looking up, he saw that it was quite rusted. He pulled on the ropes again, and the pipe creaked alarmingly and shifted about a centimetre.

"Ouch! What are you doing, slug?" Pilot asked.

"Help me try to break this pipe," Snippy ordered.

Pilot made a derisive sort of farting noise with his mouth. "Pfahhh! I only take orders from Captain."

Snippy gritted his teeth. Pilot in one of his moods was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now. "Look, Pilot, Captain isn't coming to help us."

"Blasphemy!"

"He thinks we're out getting him trust, remember?" Snippy prompted.

"Nonsense! Captain is omniscient. He knows all things!"

Snippy sighed. "Look," he said, humouring him, "You don't want Captain to have to keep rescuing you all the time. You need to show him that you're able to take care of yourself. Escaping without his help would impress him."

Pilot was silent a moment, apparently mulling this over.

"Okay," he said finally. "But you'd better not be lying to me, you jiggly slug, or I'll steal your toenails and hide them where you'll never find them again."

Snippy just rolled his eyes, used to Pilot's outlandish threats. "When I say pull, pull on the ropes- ow!" He broke off as Pilot yanked hard, cinching the cords painfully tight around his wrists. "When I say _pull_, Pilot."

"It's jiggling! It's jiggling!" Pilot cried excitedly. "It's jiggling like a slug!" He happily continued to tug, the pipe wobbling more and more with each pull. Snippy sighed and resigned himself to having the circulation in his hands cut off.

Finally, with a last mighty wrench, the pipe let out an ominous groan and pulled away from the wall. A shower of murky water and clumps of plaster rained down on them.

"Yesss!" Pilot cheered. He tried to clamber to his feet, but failed – the pipe may have been out of the equation, but he was still tied back-to-back with Snippy.

"Okay," Snippy said. Things were going reasonably well now. "Lean against my back and stand up, then help me up."

Apparently Pilot only heard the first part of his instruction, for he used Snippy as a support to get up, but then tried to bound over to the door, resulting in him falling over again and Snippy being dragged sideways.

"Didn't you listen to a word I said?" Snippy grumbled. He tried to shift into a better position. "This time, take it _slowly_. Coordination, remember? Like dancing."

"Stop bossing me around," Pilot muttered churlishly. He got to his feet again, bent backwards at an awkward angle, as Snippy was still on the ground. "Hurry up!"

"Yeah, yeah." With a bit of uncomfortable contortion, Snippy managed to stumble to his feet. The two of them wobbled precariously for a moment before regaining balance.

"Right! Come on then!" Pilot declared, making for the door. Snippy staggered backwards, bumping into Pilot's back when he finally stopped.

"Stop it!" Snippy snapped. "We have to work _together_, otherwise we'll just end up rolling around on the floor like idiots."

Pilot didn't reply, which Snippy took as an invitation to keep talking. "I'm going to walk forwards now," he said. "That means you walk backwards, okay?"

"I'm not stupid," Pilot grumbled, which Snippy personally thought was hilarious. He didn't comment, however, instead taking a few slow steps forward. Pilot walked behind him without any mishaps.

Snippy looked around the room. They had no weapons, no idea what lay beyond this room, and movement was incredibly difficult. Looking up, he spied an air vent a little way up one of the walls. Now that was promising, if only they could find a way to get through it.

* * *

**Review and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated ~ =)**

**Thanks for reading.**


	3. Ode to Joy

**Disclaimer: We owneth not.  
**

**Collab between _temarcia _and _eight 0f hearts_. Chapters are by both of us.**

* * *

It was similar to dancing, just as Snippy had said. The difference lay in the way they stood - back to back, instead of face to face. But maybe that was even better. At least Pilot didn't have to look at the useless sniper, who became bossy out of the blue.

"Left, right. Left, right," he kept muttering, as they slowly travelled from one side to the other. There was not much room to practice this diverted dance. But Pilot found walking backwards quite easy. He wondered if maybe he should try talking backwards as well.

Suddenly, he spotted something on the floor. He felt a pang in his heart as he realised what it was. A piece of the ripped holy picture lay in the mud – filthy and abandoned. It was such a depressing sight. Pilot couldn't stand it.

"They're gonna pay for this," he said under his breath, as grim as ever.

The very next moment, Snippy bumped into him.

"You can't just stop moving without warning!" The jiggly slug sounded irritated. "What is it?" he added, after few seconds of silence.

"Let's punish them, in the name of the Captain."

Pilot heard Snipster's tired sigh. The same type of sigh he had received countless times as an answer. It was starting to get on his nerves.

"We need to get out of here, Pilot. They took my gun. We're helpless against them."

That statement made Pilot tremble with anger. He clenched his fists and said nothing.

"Don't worry about punishing them," Snippy continued. "They're already cursed, right? The curse of the Captain, remember? Isn't that enough?"

Hearing something like that from Mr Snippy, who called himself an "atheist" and refused to pray to the glorious Captain – that was the last thing that Pilot expected. He didn't know what to think about it. Should he be delighted, or should he be disturbed? This whole situation was very suspicious.

"But you said…" he began, sounding less then certain, "that I need to show Captain I can take care of myself. So why not take care of these filthy blasphemers as well? Captain would be proud."

_Yes, it all makes sense._

"No, he won't! That doesn't even make sense!" Snippy snapped. "Forget about those waste-landers, and focus on our escape!"

"They destroyed my holy picture!" Pilot cried.

The two just stood there. None of them had much to say for a while.

"If you want, I'll try to fix it." Mr Snippy finally offered. For once, he didn't sound offensive or indulgent. "I think we have a roll of adhesive tape in our base. Just find the pieces and lets get out of here, ok?"

Pilot decided that he could give it a try and listen to Snippy. In the end, even a shoe might be right sometimes.

The plan was rather strange. It involved taking off shoes, climbing a wall, and entering a mysterious hole. That sounded like quite the adventure. What kind of creature could have dug through the wall and left that square aperture? A mutated mole, maybe? If he and that grumpy shoe were moles, the escape would be a lot easier. Unfortunately, they were humans. At least he thought they were, Pilot couldn't be sure about Mr Snippy. At any rate, they seemed to be too large to get out through the hole.

The hole made by a mole – Pilot giggled, as he repeated the phrase inside his head. Or had he said it aloud? He had no idea. As long as he wasn't shushed, it didn't really matter.

The tunnel was dark, dirty and narrow. They had to crawl into it like little slugs. Perhaps Snippy felt comfortable – he was a jiggly slug after all. Pilot, however, found it extremely unpleasant.

He was forced to lie on his side, huddled together with Snipster. They moved forward agonisingly slowly. Without a doubt, there was not enough space for two grown men. Being a bean in a can seemed to be less claustrophobic than this.

* * *

_Maybe the air vent wasn't__ such a good idea after all, _Snippy thought. This had to be one of the most uncomfortable experiences of his life. They had managed to squash in sideways, and he was now lying on his side, his back pressing against Pilot's as they inched forward like worms. He had his feet braced against the vent wall, pushing off it to propel himself along, but with his hands tied behind his back it was extremely tedious and slow going.

"Are we there yet?" Pilot sighed.

They had travelled a few meters into the vent, and there was no telling how much farther there was to go.

"Almost," Snippy lied.

Wriggle. Squirm. Wince as Pilot's head bumped against his – there was already a bruise forming from where he'd been knocked out.

"This was a stupid plan," Pilot muttered as they got jammed and had to take a moment to reorganise themselves.

Snippy scowled. He was already in a bad mood from the whole situation. "Quit complaining," he snarked, "I didn't see you coming up with a better idea."

"We could have gone through the door."

"The door was barred, idiot."

Pilot made an angry sounding noise. "I'm not an idiot," he retorted. "You are an idiot, Mr Snippy. You can't dance and you're the one with the gun but you still managed to get caught." And with that, he shoved viciously against the wall, propelling himself forward a few inches.

Snippy gritted his teeth and did the same, gaining a little satisfaction from hearing Pilot's winded "oof" when Snippy pushed against him.

"_You _are the idiot. I'm always the one who has to come up with a plan and get... us... out... of... these... messes!" The last part of his sentence was rather strained as both he and Pilot tried to move at the same time, causing them to become stuck.

"Stop pushing, slug!" Pilot hissed.

"_You_ stop pushing!"

They both stopped at the same time, a dull _clang_ echoing through the vent as they were jarred against the metal.

Snippy let out a huff of breath. He felt a headache forming, and wanted to rub at his eyes – impossible with his hands bound.

"Let's just keep moving," he said bluntly, and Pilot was silent.

Fortunately, the air vent was actually quite short, and it wasn't long before light became visible at the end of the hatch. Snippy stilled, listening – he couldn't hear any sign of the waste-landers, so presumably the coast was clear.

Getting out of the air vent was much easier than getting in – they tumbled out head first and landed in a confused heap on the ground.

"I didn't like that," Pilot remarked as he struggled to sit up, his elbow digging into Snippy's back.

"The feeling is mutual."

With a bit of swearing and scuffling they managed to get back into a vertically upright position, slightly ruffled after the air-vent experience but otherwise none the worse for wear. Snippy shook his head a few times, trying to get his hood back into the right spot, then looked around.

He wasn't sure what sort of building they were in; maybe an abandoned factory of some sort. The air vent had emerged into a corridor, the walls intact but a large hole blasted into the ceiling. From the sky visible above their heads, Snippy realised that it was evening. Quite some hours had passed since Captain sent them out on the mission.

"Let's get out of here," he said, heading down the corridor and hoping there would be a simple door leading out. Pilot was still walking backwards behind him – they'd have to find some way to cut the ropes, and soon.

"Wait!" Pilot cried suddenly. "I need to get my blue tiara back."

"Your what?"

"The armadillo man took it. And my Thundererstone."

Snippy shook his head. "Pilot, we don't have time. We have to go before they realise we've escaped."

"No!" Apparently sick of taking orders from the sniper, Pilot began to stride off down a different corridor, forcing Snippy to stumble along behind him. "I'm going to get my tiara back."

"For God's sake, Pilot, how will you get it back when we're tied together? What will you do, insult them to death?" Snippy spat. He dug his heels in and Pilot was pulled to an abrupt halt.

"Keep walking, slug!" Pilot demanded.

"We're not walking that way."

"Yes, we are!"

For a few strained moments they both tried to walk in different directions, struggling back and forth.

* * *

Pilot had had enough of this.

Snippy had proven himself a horrible leader with idiotic ideas. He had almost turned both of them into human-worms, and there had been no Wonderland on the other side of the hole. He had insulted Pilot one time too many. And now he was showing how little he cared about Pilot's treasures. Not to mentioned, this whole situation was all his fault. If that tousled moccasin had only danced better, they wouldn't have been sent on this mission and captured.

Snippy was like a black cat – he brought bad luck. He was nothing like the magnificent Captain.

"Stop it, you stupid shoe!" Pilot shouted angrily, but the sniper didn't give up. "You had your chance! It's my turn to lead!"

"You're going to lead us to death, you retard!" Just another silly insult courtesy of Mr Snippy. Seriously, that slug used such bizarre wording. He had neither imagination nor taste.

"I'm going to teach them a lesson!" Pilot continued. "I have a plan! Just do what I say!"

"What kind of plan?" Snipster didn't sound very interested.

They continued to struggle. The rugged concrete floor definitely didn't help, as they had both left their prison barefooted. Pilot felt his feet aching, his hands going numb, and the burning pain in his wrists getting worse with every movement. He hoped it would stop soon. Many hours had passed between Captain's morning order and their current situation. Pilot was hungry and weary of Mr Snippy's company. If the flip-flop had only listened to him instead of arguing, the two of them would be on their way back home by now. But, no! That trichina worm knew absolutely nothing about teamwork. Why did he have to be so selfish and stubborn?

"We'll find those sleazy thieves and I'll conceptualize them as shoes!" Pilot explained his brilliant plan quickly. "And then, I'll take my tiara. They won't be able to stop me! Shoes can't stop anybody! Shoes are only shoes!"

A mixture of different emotions ran through his veins as he imagined it happening. He couldn't wait to make his idea a reality.

"That is the worst plan ever!" the annoyed voice from behind his back commented.

_Oh, that awful whipper-snipper! He always ruins everything, _Pilot thought. He recalled a quote that he had heard some time ago - "Ask, and it will be given to you".

Snippy had asked for it. Pilot had no choice.

One hefty kick between the legs later, and the sniper wasn't able to struggle or argue anymore. As he dragged the jiggly slug along behind him, Pilot could hear him groaning in pain and muttering obscenities. He wished he had his hands free to cover his ears.

Mr Snippy wasn't about to fight back, so they swiftly got to the end of the corridor. Pilot stopped there, a bit tired, but very satisfied. Finally, everything was going just as he had planned. He stood in front of the door. He had no idea what waited behind it. However, he felt that this was the right way. He knew it – just as he always knew when someone was telling an untruth.

Pilot tried to open the door with his elbow. It would be have been much easier, if not for the ropes. The door opened, and he saw stairs. There was nothing interesting about it, just an old staircase.

Pilot took a step forward. He wanted to check what could possibly be found downstairs. Just as he was about to go down, he felt the slug behind him wriggle. Apparently, Snippy had decided to protest once more. Unfortunately he chose the worst moment to do so.

As the sniper violently tugged at the bonds, Pilot lost his balance and fell down the stairs. Naturally, Snippy was dragged along with him. They rolled down, and crashed into a heap metal buckets with a large amount of clanging and cursing.

The two of them lay winded on the ground, close to another door – both rather busy expressing their built up hate in the form of swearing and attempting to elbow one another. Pilot, in his blind rage, didn't even notice the footsteps and the sound of a door opening. All that he could think of was a range of horrible things he would gladly do to Snippy afterwards. He started paying attention when he heard a familiar voice, which didn't belong to that shoe.

"Don't move!" the unfriendly voice said. The "click" of a loaded gun followed this order.

Pilot fell silent and glanced up, only to see Smugvoice and Deepvoice pointing their machine guns at Snippy and him.

The armadillo man stood over them, his arms folded and head tilted.

"Trying to escape, eh?" he questioned. He gave a heavy sigh. "Well. I didn't want to do this, but you've left me no choice."

* * *

This time, not only their hands remained bound. New ropes tied their ankles together, restricting normal movement to the point that they couldn't even stand properly. Walking became impossible – which meant that escape was no longer an option. Even though the two of them were brought back to the same tiny room with the mole hole in the wall. It didn't matter, because lying on the floor was the only thing that they were capable of right now.

Pilot could feel the different kind of pain in almost every part of his body. Kicks and punches had caused every part of him to ache. Being smashed against the concrete wall left a much worse feeling. His innards hurt because of all the hits that had been delivered with a golf club. According to the armadillo man, it was a very stylish weapon. Pilot didn't know whether he agreed with that statement, or not. In any case, that golf club had caused pain quite effectively. The sport called golf must have been incredibly violent one.

Wounds and bruises didn't hurt as much as the fact that his plan hadn't worked. That was more than disappointing. Pilot didn't get it. Where had it gone wrong? He had tried to imagine the three bullies as a shoes, but it hadn't stopped them from beating him up. Now, shoes reminded him of being kicked and stepped on. He'd rather not recall it.

It was better to think about something nice. For example, the Captain. Or even better – dancing with the Captain. Holding his gloved hand gently and gracefully waltzing with him as a partner... that would be a dream come true.

Pilot sighed.

He could hear that strange music again. The one that Captain had performed his dance to.

"Can you hear it, Snippy?" he asked in a hushed voice, as if he didn't want to interrupt the concerto.

"Hear what?" the sniper rasped.

"The music," Pilot whispered "Violins playing, people singing…"

"That is all in your head," the jiggly slug remarked flatly, apparently not interested in this conversation.

"How do you know what's in my head?"

Mr Snippy was silent for a moment, and Pilot doubted that the answer would come.

"I don't know, but I can't hear anything like that."

That only proved that silly shoe didn't have a good ear for music.

The sniper started to cough, and Pilot was able to feel him trembling in pain.

"Don't worry, Snippy," he attempted to comfort his fellow minion. Snipster might be annoying, but compared to those cruel shoeheads he was not that bad. "If you want, I'll hum that song for you. Just listen and think about the Captain, and you will get better."

Pilot began without waiting for Snippy's approval. His interpretation didn't come out as exalted as it should have. Maybe that was because his voice sounded rather weak and a little shaky. He couldn't imitate the whole orchestra, anyway.

"That is the _Ode to Joy,_" the sniper said quietly, after contemplating the music for some time.

Ode to Joy? Why would Snippy call it that? Certainly neither of them was feeling particularly joyful at the moment. In Pilot's opinion, the name wasn't fitting at all. He thought, that he would never understand this man.

He continued to hum, until he finally felt too sleepy.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated ~ =)  
**

**A/N: 8- This is turning whumpish xD I'm contemplating removing the humour tag depending on what happens in the next few chapters.**

**Thanks again!  
**


	4. A Name Like Arnold

**Disclaimer: We owneth not.  
**

**Collab between _temarcia _and _eight 0f hearts_. Chapters are by both of us.**

* * *

You don't get far in the world with a name like Arnold.

It's the sort of name that you'd associate with old grandfathers; with dust-bunnies, suspenders, knee high socks and tick-tock biscuits. The sort of name that gets you picked on at school.

Arnold Kowalsky hated his name.

His homeroom teacher used to stress the first syllable - "_Ar_-nold," she'd slur, as she called the roll in the morning. "Is _Ar_-nold here?"

"Here ma'am," he'd respond sourly from where he was hunched over at a desk in the back corner.

"_Ar-_nold?"

"I'm _here!_" he'd shout. He was a soft-spoken boy. It didn't help that he was the shortest in the class, morbidly overweight, and had a nasty squint in his left eye.

As a child Arnold's pastimes included pulling wings off cockroaches, running an illegal homework exchange business behind his teachers' backs, and writing graphic torture porn on kink memes. Despite his rather soft and unstriking appearance, he was never bullied as he was notorious for jabbing pins under his enemies' kneecaps. Overall he was a nasty little specimen who grew up to become an even nastier little man.

Arnold's insecurities stemmed from the fact that he'd never managed to grow beyond 5'5". Other men towered over him and it made him feel insignificant.

Arnold hated feeling insignificant.

When the bombs fell he survived by locking himself in his paranoid grandmother's underground bunker and refusing to let her in, even as he heard her screaming and banging on the door outside. And when he emerged into the ash-ridden new world wearing his grandfather's shock-trooper helmet, he quickly found that this was an environment where he could _thrive_.

Despite his odious nature, Arnold was well-educated. He compensated for his height (or lack thereof) by running his tongue in an educated manner. He was polite and cruel at the same time.

His first port of call was an abandoned golf course, where he shot three hole-in-ones before taking up a golf club as his weapon of choice. It was here that he was attacked by two brutes who sprang at him out of nowhere and demanded he hand over his money or his life.

"What use is money to you?" Arnold pointed out calmly. "All the shopkeepers are dead. You can hardly spend it on anything."

"Uhhh," the goon floundered, and Arnold took the opportunity to hit him over the head with the golf club.

"Do put that gun away. Do you even know how to use that thing? I think you've got the safety on," Arnold continued, staring up at the second man.

"Who do you think you are?" the thug rumbled. He had an extraordinarily deep voice.

"I am smarter than you, and I am currently at the perfect height to introduce this golf club to your crotch," Arnold said pleasantly. "Now do as I say."

Stunned by this strange little man's authoritative manner, Deepvoice lowered his gun and silently helped up his friend.

From that point on the three of them formed a team, of sorts. An unspoken agreement formed that Arnold was in charge, and the two larger thugs never thought to question the genteel little man, who seemed to have an air of authority despite being somewhat vertically challenged.

Arnold drummed his fingers against the wooden table and smiled to himself. He'd been looking for a way to get into Supabarn for a while. Finding those two clueless scavengers blundering around the place had been a Godsend.

"Boss."

He looked up to see Deepvoice – he never had found out the man's real name.

"What is it?"

"It's nearly light," Deepvoice continued. "We doing it today?"

"Yes," Arnold agreed, getting to his feet and stretching. He hadn't slept – had trained himself to function without it. If anything, Arnold was a man of _discipline._

He cast about and caught sight of his golf club lying near the door. Picking it up, he swung it over his shoulder, then turned to Deepvoice.

"Get some sacks. We'll need something to carry the supplies in."

"Yes boss."

Arnold strode out of the room and headed for the storage cupboard where they had been keeping the prisoners. He paused outside the door, listening – but no, their two captives were being silent.

He unbolted the door and stepped inside. The two of them were slumped over by the wall, either asleep or unconscious... in the state they'd been left in, there probably wasn't much difference. He strode closer and stamped his foot noisily on the ground.

"Rise and shine! We have a big day ahead of us."

The blue-eyed one stirred, sitting up a bit. He caught sight of Arnold looming over him and flinched back a bit.

Arnold glanced at the golf club he was carrying and shrugged. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna hit you again," he mocked. "And honestly, it was your own fault the first time. Trying to escape like that..." he trailed off, tutting disapprovingly. "People these days. No sense of self preservation. You need to know when it's time to give up."

"I doubt you'd sit here quietly if it was you who was about to be used as mutant bait," Blue-eyes snapped.

Arnold shrugged. "That may be, but if the situation's hopeless you should stop fighting the inevitable and concentrate on causing as little pain for yourself as possible. Carpe diem and all that."

Blue-eyes turned his head away sullenly.

Arnold whistled loudly. "Time for your pal to wake up. Hello? Wakey-wakey?" he prodded Green-eyes vigorously with the end of the golf club, and he startled awake with a yelp.

"Snippy!" Green-eyes exclaimed. "I had a most wonderful dream about Captain and cake! The cake was chocolate mousse with a hint of caramel. And Photoshop ate your slice-"

"Shhh, Pilot," Blue-eyes interjected, glancing up at Arnold, who was watching in amusement.

"'_Snippy_'?" Arnold questioned. He couldn't help laughing. "And I thought _my_ name was bad."

"Snippy's name suits him," the so-called 'Pilot' said hotly. "He is a snippety snip sniper! And you are just a stinky armadillo man."

"_Armadillo man?"_ that only made Arnold laugh harder. "I've been called worse."

"You are a zit upon the surface of Captania," Pilot continued. "A blemish which Captain will remove with ease. You are tiny in the face of the Captain."

"_Tiny?"_ Rage welled up in Arnold's gut. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was comments about his height. "Who are you calling _tiny?_"

He raised the golf club threateningly, and Pilot cringed back with a squeak.

"Okay, okay, he didn't mean it!" Snippy cut in frantically. "Look, let's just get this over with. Are we going to that Supabarn or not?"

Arnold forced himself to calm down. He took a few deep breaths and counted pi to thirteen decimal places. Once his temper was under control, he lowered the club.

"Indeed," he said flatly. "We're wasting daylight." Pulling a penknife from his pocket, he cut the cords around their ankles.

"No funny business," he warned as he hauled Snippy to his feet. The man stumbled and had to steady himself against the wall. Arnold nodded appraisingly – the two of them didn't look in any condition to attempt another escape.

Pilot seemed to have learned his lesson, for he was silent as he got up, took their shoes and limped out of the room after Snippy. The three of them trooped out of the factory, Arnold prodding them to keep them moving every now and then.

It was a cold, grey dawn outside. There was a biting wind in the air, blowing ash and dust across the rubbish-strewn ground. The factory was on a bald hill in a remote part of the wasteland. Arnold took a deep breath and looked out over what he liked to call his 'kingdom' – a bare expanse of barren ground, the taller parts of the city peeking out of the fog at the bottom of the hill.

"We have a long walk ahead of us," Deepvoice sighed as they set off in the direction of the Supabarn. Arnold led the way, the two prisoners trooping along behind him and flanked by Smugvoice and Deepvoice. The three of them were heavily armed, carrying their guns as well as an assortment of melee weapons. It wouldn't do to go into such a dangerous zone unprepared.

"What do you want the supplies from there for, anyway?" Snippy spoke up cautiously. "They'll be horribly radiated."

"You never know. Some of them might be intact. And in any case, it's better than starving," Arnold replied.

"You'll end up with cancer."

"We live in a friggin' radioactive wasteland. _Everybody _has cancer."

"Touché," Snippy admitted.

They trudged on in silence. After a little while Pilot began humming something under his breath. Snippy tried to shush him, to no avail. Arnold ignored the two of them, content to have something to listen to as they travelled.

The sun was high in the sky by the time they arrived in the 'danger zone'. Arnold slowed his pace, holding his gun at the ready. Huge piles of rubble and skeletons dotted the arid landscape. He paused by one of them, raising a hand to signal the others to stop.

"The Supabarn's just up ahead," Arnold hissed. He pulled out an old fashioned spyglass and squinted through it. He could see the large supermarket in the distance – remarkably intact despite its proximity to the bomb. Several large, dark shapes were moving around it. He adjusted the spyglass and was treated to a lovely view of one of the mutants' faces. It was a fearsome looking creature, twisted and misshapen, bearing a vague resemblance to a grizzly bear with the face of a wrinkled ape.

"Monster at two o'clock," Deepvoice hissed, and Arnold looked up to see another deformed creature snuffling about close to where they were.

"Get down," he whispered, crouching. His two thugs shoved Pilot and Snippy roughly to the ground and they hunkered down, trying to stay as quiet as possible. After a few moments the creature turned and shuffled off in another direction.

"Right." Arnold shoved the spyglass back into his pocket. "We're gonna cut the two of you loose. You make for the front of the building. Once you get past the "open 24/7" sign you're free to try to run for your life. I doubt you'll make it far; those monsters will be on you as soon as they smell you. In the meantime, we'll be sneaking in the back. Kapish?"

"What's to stop us running off as soon as you let us go?" Snippy asked.

Arnold shrugged. "You don't do as I say and we'll be the ones shooting you down. You can take your chances with the monsters or I can shoot you in the head as soon as you step in the wrong direction."

All in all, he wasn't a malicious man. He could forgive the two insolent and obviously stupid men. Their pathetic attempt to escape had gotten on his nerves, not to mention that "tiny" remark from this morning. However, Arnold didn't hold a grudge against the idiots. If they managed to survive somehow... well, good for them.

"I guess this is goodbye," he said in a friendly manner, drawing a snort from the so-called sniper. "You'll be a great help to us, fellows," he added, cutting Snippy's ropes. "We're not going to forget about you." He moved to the other captive and let him free. "Now, off you go."

The two just stood there, rubbing their wrists and glancing at each other. Arnold hoped that they would make the right choice. Killing them here – now that would be a terrible waste of his precious time.

"What are you waiting for?"

As soon as Arnold asked the question, his comrades pointed guns at them. It was more than a suggestion, and Blue-eyes seemed to get it. He didn't say a word, just nodded to his crazy friend. And with that, the two went in said direction – to meet their death, most likely.

For a brief moment, Arnold thought that he was going to miss them. After all, the whole event had been rather amusing.

He watched them from the distance. They reached the empty car park and almost made it through to the sign. Almost…

One of the mutated beasts had already spotted them. Arnold saw through his spyglass, that the monstrous thing was composed of a large number of rats joined together as the cells of one organism. Usually, rats were part of the menu. This time, the rules had changed. The prey had become the predator.

Blue-eyes and Green-eyes started to run. Unfortunately, they choose the worst direction possible. From his hiding place, Arnold could see some other mutants lurking behind a corner. The two were drawing closer to them with every thoughtless step. Well, it had been nice to meet the silly duo.

"Get ready, boys!" he ordered, and put down the spyglass.

Witnessing the massacre wasn't necessary.

* * *

As soon as Pilot started to believe that their troubles were over, things had to get even worse.

The armadillo man had let them go. Apparently, the stinky rodent had gotten scared of Captain's terrible punishment.

Then, another enemy appeared. This time, it was the Rat King. The ruler of all rats come to take the revenge on them for the dozens of his minions they had eaten. Captain would probably do the same, if he and Snippy had been consumed. The rage of the Rat King was perfectly understandable. Nevertheless, Pilot didn't want to take the blame and get killed. Without much thought, he started to run. Snipster did the same thing. Funny, how agreeable they could be when the situation was so perilous.

The monster wasn't as fast as a normal, little rat. If he was, they would already be dead. Neither the sniper nor Pilot had much energy left. But still, they seemed to forget how tired they were. Adrenaline and fear leant them new strength.

Suddenly, two other monsters jumped out from behind a corner. They literally "jumped" since they were giant cat-like creatures with long tails and striped fur. That actually made them look more like tigers. As far as Pilot knew, tigers could live on human meat. But this was no time to recall zoological knowledge. As the two wildlings charged. Snippy and Pilot froze in fear. The only thing they managed to do was get down and cover their heads.

What happened next was definitely unexpected.

The cat-monsters jumped over them, and attacked the Rat King.

The fight between the three beasts started. That gave Pilot and Mr Snippy an opportunity to escape.

For a second, Pilot thought that the nightmare was over, and they could return to the base. Oh, how wrong he was. Before the two of them reached the other side of the street, they spotted more monsters coming. These creatures were about to track them down any minute now.

"There!" the sniper pointed at the nearest building. There were the fire escape stairs, leading to the roof. "Maybe they can't climb."

_Or maybe they can_, Pilot thought. However, this plan was better than no plan at all.

When they got closer to their destination, they saw that the stairs were rather high from the ground. Pilot doubted that he and Snippy could jump that high. He had no idea how they supposed to do it. Maybe, if he could imagine the two of them as kangaroos…

"Pilot, remember that dancing lift?" Mr Snippy interrupted his meditation.

"It's not a good time for dancing, you shoe!" Pilot shouted at him, and turn his head. The angry creatures were coming. They needed to hurry, or else…

"I don't want to dance! I just want you to lift me up," the jiggly slug explained. He was also nervous. "Then I will be able to get up there."

"And what about me?" Pilot cried.

He wasn't an idiot. He would never agree to be used by Mr Snippy and left for certain death.

"I'll give you a hand up," the sneaky sniper said.

"How do I know you're not lying!"

"You don't," Snippy answered. "You'll just have to trust me. I'm not gonna leave you."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated ~ =)  
**


	5. The Secret Weapon

**Disclaimer: We owneth not.  
**

**Collab between _temarcia _and _eight 0f hearts_. Chapters are by both of us.**

**(A/N: Thank you everyone for bearing with us despite the long wait; we're sorry it took so long to update! ^^)**

* * *

For a tense moment the two of them stood, staring at each other.

A low growl from one of the approaching beasts broke the silence.

"Quickly, Pilot," Snippy urged.

He couldn't blame the other for not trusting him – he would probably have felt the same – but right now they really needed to get a move on.

With a curt nod, Pilot held out his arms.

The process of lifting Snippy up was, surprisingly, not very awkward. Both of them were too nervous and high-strung to bother with embarrassment. Adrenaline leant Pilot strength to boost Snippy up until he could grab hold of the bottom of the stairs and haul himself the rest of the way.

Snippy winced as his knees scraped against the rusted metal of the stairs. He turned to see that a large, reptilian looking creature was thundering towards Pilot at top speed.

"Quickly!" Snippy yelled, reaching a hand down towards Pilot.

The mutant lunged just as he pulled Pilot up, catching the aviator in the leg and drawing a yell of pain from him.

Snippy yanked him up onto the stairs and they both fell over backwards, panting for breath. Snippy sat up shakily – the lizard-like creature was pawing at the rusty metal, causing it to shake alarmingly.

"Pilot? You okay?" he asked, looking down at the other.

Pilot sat up with a wince, clutching at his calf. "No!"

"Damnit." Snippy clambered to his feet and reached out to help Pilot up. "We need to get onto the roof. These stairs will be a goner in a minute. Can you walk?"

Pilot let Snippy pull him up, practically falling against him. Snippy had to support his weight as he half-dragged, half-carried him up the rest of the stairs.

It was an agonising journey, but finally they reached the roof and stepped onto solid concrete – and not a moment too soon, as seconds later the rusted stairs collapsed as the mutants below continued to batter them.

Snippy fell over and Pilot slumped against him. They were both breathing heavily, exhausted from their ordeal.

After a few moments Snippy sat up and looked over the edge of the building. There were a few monsters nosing about near the fallen stairs, but it appeared that the roof was high enough to put them out of sight and smell range.

They were safe, for the moment.

"Snippy," Pilot said pitifully, "I want to go home."

Home being Captain.

Snippy nodded. "I know," he said, feeling a rare moment of camaraderie with his fellow minion. "We need to find a way off this roof. How bad's your leg?"

He reached out to inspect the wound, but Pilot grabbed his wrist.

"Don't touch it, shoe!"

"I just want to help you."

For a long moment they stared at each other, then Pilot slowly let go of Snippy's arm. It was just a small gesture, but Snippy couldn't help feeling inexplicably pleased.

The gash was quite shallow but was bleeding sluggishly. Snippy was more worried about infection and radiation poisoning than Pilot bleeding out on him. He found a convenient handkerchief in his pocket and tore it into a strip, using it as a makeshift bandage.

"Behind you!" Pilot shrieked suddenly.

The yell came so out of the blue that Snippy didn't have time to react. With a loud "Bwah!" he spun around, hands rising to defend himself. He tripped over his own feet and fell over in a rather undignified manner.

The strange being who had appeared behind him stared down at him, head tilted slightly, green eyes large and unblinking. Snippy squinted up at him, wondering why he looked so familiar. His gaze fell on a black tattoo on the strange old man's arm.

_UPS._

"You!" Snippy exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. "You're that delivery guy from the whale! What... how..."

The postman thrust a slightly soggy envelope into Snippy's hands before turning and dropping down off the roof. Snippy rushed to the edge, expecting to see him being torn apart by the mutants, but he had vanished into thin air.

The sniper scratched his head, thoroughly confused.

"Right... that was... random."

"What is it, what is it?" Pilot limped over to him and snatched the envelope. "It's from Captain!" he cried delightedly.

Snippy was still trying to puzzle out the mystery of the disappearing postman. "But how does he _get_ to these places?" he mused in frustration. "And where did you guys even find him? UPS doesn't even exist any more!"

Pilot ripped the envelope open, taking care not to damage the stamp – which had a picture of Captain on it.

"I mean," Snippy continued to rant, "who even pays for the postal service to continue? There aren't taxes any more!"

Pilot brought the letter up to his nose and sniffed deeply. Whether he could actually smell anything through his respirator was questionable.

Finally Snippy shook his head. "You know what, I don't even want to know," he decided, and turned back to Pilot. "So what's in the envelope?"

"A most glorious letter from Captain!" Pilot replied happily. His injured leg was starting to buckle, so he sat down again, stretching it out, and unfolded Captain's letter (which appeared to be written with a green sharpie on slightly scorched pink paper).

Snippy knelt next to him and read over his shoulder.

_'MiNioNs', _Captain's handwriting read. He seemed to have no concept of where to use capital letters correctly.

'_I am waitiNg for my TrusT! What is Taking you so Long? Get back here you __BOOBS!'_

Snippy squinted at the drawing scribbled beneath this message.

"Did he draw an actual boob?" he asked, aghast.

Pilot elbowed him. "No, you ninny!" he chided. "It's a donut! Or possibly a sombrero." He brought the paper closer to his face, trying to make it out.

Snippy sighed. Truth be told, he was unexplainably reassured to see the letter from Captain. Their commanding officer had gotten them out of seemingly impossible situations before. Hearing from him – even if it was via crazy pink letter delivered by mysterious disappearing postman – was a relief and made him feel that there might just be a way out of this situation.

"Look!" Pilot called suddenly, pointing.

Snippy looked over, grimacing as he heard the sound of smashing glass and yelling. Down below, the armadillo man and his two lackeys were facing off against the mutants. It seemed that some of the monsters had smashed through the Supabarn doors and forced them to escape through the front – right into the courtyard where most of the creatures were.

For now, Armadillo and his friends were holding them off, standing back-to-back and keeping up constant fire. But it wouldn't be long before they were completely overrun.

Snippy felt a certain vindictive satisfaction. _What goes around comes __around, _he thought rather smugly. _It's about time that scumbag got his just desserts._

A second later he began to feel guilty. _We can't just sit here and watch them die, _he realised reluctantly. _That'd make us as bad as they are. But is there any way we ca__n help...?_

Glancing about the roof, he searched for any sort of weapon – preferably one that they could use from the relative safety of the rooftop.

* * *

From the top of the four-storey building, they had an excellent view. The show had already started, and Pilot intended to enjoy it. He positioned himself close to the edge of the roof. Lying down on his stomach, he watched the monsters attack. The spectacle was almost terrifying – a bit like a horror story that Captain had told him once. However, at the same time he found it rather satisfying. After all, shoe-ish armadillo man deserve some sort of punishment for his despicable deeds, and seeing him so helpless was simply entertaining. Pilot giggled as Big Bad Mutant charged, managing to claw one of Armadillo's friends before falling dead under their gunfire.

Pilot tried to count how many monsters were left alive.

"_One for sorrow,_

_Two for mirth,_

_Three for a wedding,_

_And four for death,"_ he recited happily.

The rhyme seemed to fit the situation so well.

Suddenly, he spotted more radioactive creatures. One of them was a vulture-like bird that circled above the battlefield ominously. The sound of the fight had apparently lured it here. Now, the winged monster waited for its dinner to be served.

_Some like their meal cold_, Pilot thought and continued counting.

"_Five for silver,_

_Six for gold,_

_Seven for a secret_

_Not to be told."_

Oh yes, he knew secrets – Captain's secrets. Not all of them, of course. Pilot's head couldn't handle such infinite knowledge. But still, he remembered things Captain had told him once, a long time ago. If Snippy had heard them…

No, a faithless slug like Snippy wouldn't understand. He would get it wrong and turn away from the glorious Captain. The sniper might not be the perfect minion, but every minion was precious to the Captain. Honestly, Captain was too kind! And Snippy? Snippy was too stubborn to notice just how much luck he had. Not everyone got the chance to become a soldier in the victorious army of Captania.

Maybe the events of today would change something. Snipster might learn, if he witnessed Captain's enemies getting killed and eaten. Pilot glanced over his shoulder checking that the other was watching. He was a bit annoyed to see the jiggly slug wriggling and looking around.

"What are you looking for, you shoe? The show is taking place down there!" He pointed at the courtyard, but the sniper wasn't paying attention.

"I'm going to help them, somehow," he answered, not even looking in Pilot's direction. "If only I could find some…"

"Are you mad?" Pilot snapped, deeply shocked by this nonsense.

His reaction made Snippy turn around. The marksman looked angry; Pilot could tell from his clenched fists and the intense stare of his blue lenses.

"You want to let those monsters eat them?"

Pilot shrugged his shoulders. The answer seemed obvious to him.

"Yeah."

In response the slug made an irritated sound.

"Fine! Do as you please!" he said, gesticulating angrily. "But you know what? I want no part in it! I won't be watching them die."

"Why not?" Pilot asked, not really getting what it was all about. "Don't you remember what they did to us? They're our enemies."

Snippy fell silent, and for a second gunshots from below were the only sound.

"I guess you're right," he finally agreed.

There was an awkward moment. Never before had Snipster agreed to a single thing Pilot said. That stubborn sandal was always the first to criticise. He listened to nobody, not even to the Captain!

This was the first time, and it felt strange. Pilot gazed at his fellow minion in disbelief. Judging from his pose, Snippy was resigned.

"They are our enemies," Snippy continued finally. "They treated us like a living bait, but…" he paused and sighed faintly "…but still, this just doesn't feel right. They are human beings after all. One of the few people left alive. And they will be dead in a minute…"

Hearing that rang a bell.

Mr Snippy continued talking, but Pilot didn't listen to him anymore. The only thing he could think about right now was the word "dead". It sounded suspiciously familiar and disturbing at the same time. It reminded him of the very beginning of all the happenings of the last two days.

"What's wrong?" Snippy's voice abruptly woke him up from his daydream, or rather his daymare. Pilot looked at him and noticed with surprise, that the other was watching him closely. "You're shaking," Snippy pointed out, apparently worried.

"This was all part of the plan…" Pilot muttered, honestly terrified by his sudden realisation.

It made perfect sense, now.

He recalled how this had all began.

First, the headless, dancing skeleton had appeared to steal their Captain. When he didn't succeed, he separated them from Captain by showing them up and making Captain suggest that "Trust" mission. That ugly plotter was obviously trying to kill them and make them one of the Dead. He wasn't able to do that, so he decided to incorporate Armadillo and his friends into the skeleton army by killing them. That was why they were about to die. The evil plan would work out, and the Dead people – led by Dead Armadillo – would start their uprising.

Pilot didn't know if he and Mr Snippy would stand a chance against the skeleton's forces. Of course the almighty Captain could crush those insolent rebels like a bug, but Captain hadn't detected the danger yet. He had to be warned before it was too late. Something needed to be done as quickly as possible!

"What pla…" the slow-thinking slug wanted to ask, but he was immediately cut off.

"Not now!" Pilot shouted and rapidly got to his feet, forgetting about his injured leg. Snippy started to take a step back, but he was held in place by the desperate grip of Pilot's gloved hands. "We have to help them! They must stay alive! I know what to do," he told the confused sniper. "You'd better pray to the Captain, 'cause we'll get only one chance!"

Snippy said nothing.

Among the secrets that Captain had shared with him, Pilot had come to know one special technique. That technique remained their last resort right now. Captain had been using it before the End of the World. Pilot remembered the story about that ultimate attack, but he had never tried it himself. There was no guarantee that it would turn out right. But he had to take the risk. All in all, Captania's future was in his hands. He fully understood the seriousness of the situation, as he took out the pink letter from his pocket and held it carefully with two fingers.

_No time for doubts_, he convinced himself. He sat down and put the piece of paper on the rooftop. Then, he began to fold it.

"How's this supposed to help?" asked the clueless shoe, gazing at the pink paper plane made by Pilot.

"You'll see," came the simple answer, but the sniper only shook his head in disapproval, or maybe disbelief. "Don't underestimate Captain's ingenious fighting strategy! This aircraft is a deadly weapon!" Pilot warned him. "An airplane like this once took a dozens of mad scientists down; it should also work on those beasts."

Wasting no time, he moved close to the roof's edge, aimed and threw the plane.

It glided gracefully off the rooftop, spurred on by a slight breeze.

Pilot bit his lip, feeling the building up of hope mixed with a fear. Had he done it right? If not, not only would those three boobs down there die. He would also have just thrown away the most glorious letter written by his Captain.

_It's gonna work_, he told himself. _You're a pilot. Captain calls you that. If anyone can fly things here, it's you. It's gonna work, for sure!_

The paper plane flew, steadily losing its height. It circled in the air, and finally turned in the direction of the winged monster.

The mutated creature was distracted by the little thing, that suddenly appeared right in front of its eyes. The beast tried to catch the aircraft with its beak, but missed. Irritated by that, it chose to chase the pink prey.

Surprisingly enough, the paper airplane seemed to be uncatchable. The glider acted as if it had its own free will. The monstrous vulture couldn't reach it. Pilot thought that Captain's awesomeness contained in the letter might be protecting the aircraft from being destroyed.

Apparently, it was also driving the winged mutant crazy. Its sharp claws were now ready to be used. However, the birdbrain was already dangerously close to a multi-purpose billboard placed near the Supabarn. In its blind rage, the flying creature charged. It caught the paper plane with its nasty claws, but not being able to stop its momentum, the monster crashed into the billboard.

The whole construction crunched and fell down. The giant advertisement (that showed some kind of cheese) crushed the bunch of beasts that were in the supermarket's courtyard. The few mutants that didn't get smashed ran away in panic – leaving the armadillo man and his two friends unharmed and most likely shocked.

"How did you…" Snippy mumbled, seemingly stunned into incoherency. "What just happened…?"

"I told you, this technique is deadly," replied Pilot, too delighted to be annoyed by Snipster's lack of faith at the moment. Everything had gone so well. If it wasn't for fatigue, he would literally jump for joy right now. "Why don't you try believing me once in a while, eh?"

"Maybe next time," Snippy replied with a short laugh.

It was nice to know that Mr Snippy felt happy about their victory too.

"We can finally go back to Captain!" Pilot cheered.

"Sure. But how are we going to get down from here?"

Ah, the snippy sniper – asking those silly questions again.

"The same way the UPS-guy did. We're gonna jump down, of course!"

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated ~ =)  
**


	6. Till Death

**Disclaimer: We owneth not.  
**

**Collab between _temarcia _and _eight 0f hearts_. Chapters are by both of us.**

**(A/N: sorry for the insanely long wait! Here's the final chapter =) )**

* * *

"Pilot-" Snippy began, but was cut off as his companion leaped over the side of the building and plummeted from sight.

Snippy flinched back and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for a _splat_ or a _thud_ or any other manner of horrid violent-impact-with-the-ground sound, but there was nothing. After a tense moment he worked up the courage to peer over the edge of the rooftop.

One of the larger mutants had collapsed against the side of the building, its feathery hide providing a soft landing for Pilot. As Snippy watched, the aviator scrambled off the beast's corpse, limping slightly as he continue to favour his injured leg. He turned and waved up at the Sniper.

"The Eagle has landed!" Pilot hollered. "It's your turn, Snippy!"

Rolling his eyes, Snippy lowered himself off the building, dropping down onto the dead creature and climbing onto ground level. Even through his respirator's filters, he had to struggle not to gag as a pungent smell hit his nostrils. The odour was coming from the various dead beasts lying around them. Like crushed insects, their blood emitted a foul stink that was already starting to give him a headache.

A gust of wind brought the tattered and torn remains of the pink plane to their feet, and Pilot bent to pick it up. He pressed it reverently to his mask as though kissing it.

"Captain will guide us home," he said happily, glancing up at Snippy, who for once was feeling optimistic enough to give him a jovial nod back. Glancing about the landscape, he thought he recognised a part of the ruined city in the distance. It seemed things were going their way for once.

At least until a loud shout of "Oi!" and the click of a shotgun being readied caused their heads to whip around towards the Supabarn.

Armadillo Man was striding towards them, flanked by Smugvoice and Deepvoice. The latter was hobbling slowly, leaning against his friend and bleeding heavily from a deep gash in his chest. Snippy stiffened, looking about for any sort of weapon but finding none.

_It would be dreadfully ironic, _a part of his mind thought calmly, _for us to survive this monster attack only to be shot dead by Armadillo and his friends..._

"You!" Pilot snarled suddenly. He shoved the plane at Snippy, who instinctively took hold of it, before striding towards Armadillo, anger written in ever inch of his body language.

Armadillo seemed slightly startled. "What?" he inquired.

"You! You utter turd! You baloney-witted bumhead! You almost fell right into the trap!"

"What trap?" Armadillo questioned. He glanced towards Snippy, who just shrugged, as confused as he was.

"The trap of the Dead! They were going to use you as their puppet, the leader of their fiendish army to overrule Captania!"

"Mate, I think you have a few screws lose," Armadillo replied with a short laugh.

Snippy was not amused. Taking Pilot by the shoulder, he pulled him back. "Shh," he hushed the enraged man, before turning to Armadillo and asking coldly, "What do you want?"

"Just kill 'em already," Smugvoice snarled, jabbing his gun at Snippy, who reeled back. "'cause of them David here might not make it back to base alive."

David. It was strange to put a name to the faceless, deep-voiced drone who'd been their captor. Snippy stood his ground, straightening up.

"We have no fight with you," he told Armadillo man. "You can't blame us for your friend's injury. We went through with your plan like you told us to. In fact, Pilot here saved your life by distracting the monsters with his plane."

"Yeah!" Pilot shouted in agreement, shaking a fist at the three men.

Armadillo was studying them silently.

"You have your supplies now," Snippy continued. "In fact, maybe if we'd _worked together_ instead of you forcing us to act as monster bait, Deepvoice – I mean, David – might not have been injured. Maybe you should think about that next time you decide to ponce around acting like great heartless bullies."

Armadillo let out a scoffing laugh at that, but there was little amusement in his tone as he said, "I can't think of any reason to keep you alive. In fact, we'd probably be better off killing you. Makes two less enemies here in the wasteland, not to mention two spare masks."

Snippy held his breath.

"But," Armadillo continued, "Right now we need to get our injured man back to camp as soon as possible, so I guess you're free to go. But mind you, if we run into each other again I won't be so... merciful."

Snippy let out the breath he'd been holding. "Come on, Pilot," he said, turning and striding off before the man could change his mind. Once they'd covered some ground he looked over his shoulder and saw the three figures travelling slowly in the opposite direction. He puzzled over this last encounter. Armadillo was the sort of man he'd seen a lot, both before and after the bombs fell – cruel, callous and selfish, placing their own survival over everyone else's, sadistically taking pleasure in others' pointless pain. But Snippy was determined not to lose his own humanity in the same manner, and continue to acknowledge that every other human survivor was just that – _human_, with a name and a face and a history under the anonymous gasmasks.

Pilot started humming a waltz under his breath as they walked, and Snippy glanced over at him. He abruptly remembered the original mission Captain had sent them on.

"I'd say we've found trust today, eh Pilot?" he asked, feeling an odd sense of camaraderie with his companion after this shared experience.

Pilot looked quizzically up at him. "Snippy, you utter lobster! We've found nothing that will help us in our dancing mission. Your uncoordinated clambering about on this mission has proved that you are as boobish a dancer as ever!" he responded, and Snippy rolled his eyes. Some people would just never change.

The weak sun was sinking below the horizon as they arrived back at the building they had been staying in. Snippy stepped cautiously inside the dark room, Pilot peering out from behind him.

"Captain?" he called out, bracing himself for a party popper or a foghorn or any other manner of loud noise that was liable to startle him from the darkness, courtesy of Captain's idea of a 'prank'.

Pilot was not so cautious. He charged into the room and began to run about all over the place, screeching out "CAPTAIN!" and "CAPTAIN WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"Calm down, Pilot," Snippy snapped. He looked about but there was no sign of their leader. "He's probably just wandered off on a walk somewhere-"

He broke off as Pilot let out an anguished cry, dropping to his knees in the centre of the room.

"What is it?" Snippy rushed over. Two scraps of a papery substance were clutched in Pilot's clenched fist. He threw them at Snippy, who fumbled to catch them. They appeared to be notes written in bright green sharpie on two ragged tea towels. Snippy squinted in the growing darkness to read the text. From what he could gather, they were wedding invitations.

"It's too late."

Pilot's voice broke the silence and caused Snippy to look over at him.

"What do you mean?" Snippy sighed.

"The Headless One has succeeded in his notorious plan. Did you see, Snippy? Did you see the horror?"

"All I see is a grammatically challenged wedding invite," Snippy replied flatly.

Pilot let out a bloodcurdling wail. "Exactly! And who is to be married? The Headless One! Its foul plan has succeeded! The invitation says it shall be wed at sundown! It shall marry the Captain and all hope shall be lost! But wait..." He froze suddenly, as though a great plan has occurred to him. "We can save him, Snippy! We can save Captain!"

"What in the world are you talking about?" By this point, Snippy had lost track of Pilot's insane conspiracy theories.

"We must object!" Pilot cried frantically. He dashed for the door, grabbing Snippy's arm and dragging him along. "Mush, Snippy! Mush!"

"I'm so confused!" Snippy lamented as he stumbled after the other. As they exited onto the street, Pilot stopped abruptly, spinning in a circle on the spot before finally turning to gaze into the distance. Snippy dazedly looked in the same direction and caught sight of a massive ruined cathedral, its spire somehow still standing despite the fact that half of it had been reduced to rubble.

"Quickly Snippy!" Pilot began to run towards the building. "We must speak now or forever hold our peace!"

"So much for getting home and relaxing," Snippy grumbled as he followed. "Oh who am I kidding, as if I ever get to relax."

* * *

Horrible thoughts crossed Pilot's mind as he ventured on his way to stop this madness. If he and the sluggish sniper did not make it on time, their fate would be sealed. The fate of Captania would be sealed. He could not allow this. Such a lovely place as the Land of Captania, where every little minion could serve the wonderful Captain happily ever after – such a place represented pure perfection! And this perfection must remain untainted by such evil, deceptive plotters as The Headless One.

All those fights against Snippy, or angry monsters, or even those shoe-ish non-believers like Armadillo – how meaningless they seemed to him right now! The freedom of Captania was a much more important cause to fight for. Pilot knew that, and he was ready to fight. His home needed to be saved, and he would do whatever it took to save it.

"No bony imposter shall ruin my happiness. You messed with a wrong minion, you dirty crunchycarcass," he muttered, feeling angrier and angrier with each passing second. "You won't get away with this! How dare you lay your salad fingers on Captain! Captain doesn't love you!"

Pilot deeply hoped that the last sentence was true.

As he drew near the ruined church, he could hear dramatic organ music coming from inside. It sent shivers down his spine. That didn't sound merry at all, that sounded simply disturbing. This ominous music could mean only one thing...

"It has begun!" he shouted to Snippy, who was lagging behind, apparently too lazy to keep up. Knowing that they had no more time to waste, Pilot gritted his teeth and made one last-ditch effort to speed up.

Unfortunately, the organ fell silent before the two of them could reach the cathedral. Pilot hopped over the remains of the church's wall and almost collapsed as he saw what was happening there.

It was bad.

There were skeletons all over the place – hundreds of them! A whole army of The Dead! Most of them sat in pews. Some were wearing fancy hats, and some were holding bouquets of plastic flowers. Pilot could swear that the very moment he arrived, they all turned their heads to look at him with their empty eye sockets. Their sinister whispers and chuckles echoed eerily around the ruined stone, but it didn't stop him from dashing straight to the alter, where the bride stood. No matter how hard he tried, he felt as though he was moving in slow motion. The young couple already held hands. It looked like they were about to kiss.

"Nooo!" Pilot cried in despair, blaming himself for coming too late.

He wanted to separate the couple. He stretched his hand out, but he wasn't close enough to do so.

Suddenly, he tripped on a large wrinkle in the carpet. Before he came into contact with a floor, he clutched at the bride's wedding veil and accidentally pulled it off.

As he raised his head to look up at the bride, he saw something different from what he had expected. It wasn't his Captain. It was The Headless One! Without a veil, it didn't take much to recognise the skeleton that was lacking skull.

_If this plotting bloater is a wife-to-be, then the Captain must be..._

Pilot immediately turned his head to the bridegroom. Strangely enough, it wasn't his leader either. The confused minion lay there for a long moment wondering what kind of witchcraft this could possibly be. Both of the newly married couple were skeletons. Was it possible for Captain to turn into a Dead One so fast? No, it couldn't be! Pilot refused to believe that.

"And what exactly is going on here?" the well-known, firm voice came from somewhere behind him.

Hearing that made Pilot jump to his feet. When he turned to see who had spoken, he couldn't help but smile.

"Captain!"

Here he was – his beloved Captain in the flesh. The glorious leader looked safe and sound, and as magnificent as ever. He was flanked by Mr Snippy, who was breathing heavily, apparently exhausted from the mad spring to the chapel.

"Now, that was dramatic!" the jiggly slug commented as he caught his breath. "But what was it all about?"

"Mr Snippy has a point," Captain agreed. "Explain yourself, Pilot. Why are you trying to ruin Heather's big day?"

"I... I just..." Pilot hesitated, not knowing where to start. At the moment he felt torn between being incredibly happy about seeing his Captain not married to the skeleton, and incredibly ashamed of making Captain angry.

"Wait a second," Snippy cut in, turning to their leader. "Did you actually dress up all those skeletons and bring them here? You know how creepy it is, right? And who on earth is Heather?"

"The lovely bride, of course," Captain told him, visibly irritated by his lack of knowledge. "You have already met, while I was giving her a First Dance lesson for her wedding party. How rude of you, Mr Snippy – forgetting a lady's name so easily! And you, Pilot – you'd better have a good excuse for this boobery!"

Before Pilot could come up with something to say, his commanding officer added, "I'll talk to both of you later. For now, take your seats next to uncle Steve and try to behave. Your Captain has to marry these two lovebirds."

And with that, he produced a priest's stole from seemingly nowhere and tied it around his neck as if it was an ordinary scarf.

"Great..." sighed Snipster.

It felt great indeed, knowing that everything was back to normal.

The ceremony turned out to be really exciting. Captain embellished it with a long, heart-warming speech about love, which for some reason made Snippy nearly fall off his chair laughing. Fortunately, uncle Steve was much more well-mannered. He seemed quite nice... well, as nice as a Dead could be. And Headless Heather looked so charming in that half-burned wedding dress. Especially when her bones glistened in the dim light of the large candelabra swinging precariously above the alter.

"Pilot, are you crying?" Snippy's hushed voice jerked him out of his daze.

"No, you shoe," he lied, sniffling audibly.

The annoying sniper chuckled and asked no more questions.

It was the most beautiful wedding that Pilot had ever seen. No wonder he got a little bit emotional. (It also happened to be the only wedding he had ever seen). But still, it was an amazing one! Mostly because it wasn't Captain's.

From now on, The Headless One had a husband. That meant she wouldn't be interested in Captain anymore. Maybe she wasn't that bad after all? Pilot considered whether his judgement had been wrong from the start. But then again, as far as he knew, women should not be trusted, since they were mysterious and deceptive creatures. He decided to keep an eye on her, just in case. These days one could never be sure what those sneaky shoes out there had planed.

After Captain pronounced the two skeletons husband and wife, it was time for the wedding reception – at least, that was what Captain said as he grabbed the newly married couple and marched out of the church with them. Pilot followed at once. Snippy made a sound that expressed his built up irritation, but followed as well. Soon, the five of them passed through the door of an abandoned nightclub named _'Till Death_.

"Extraordinary choice of place for a party." Captain obviously preferred talking to Dead Ones than his minions. "It looks like we have it all for ourselves. How thoughtful of you!" he added, and dropped skeletons to the ground. "Time to dance, my doves. Now, don't be shy and dazzle us with a waltz. Show us the passion that burns within your souls and create a true art based on your trust and love!"

Pilot heard Snipster saying, "They won't move, they're dead! Dead can't dance!"

_How little does he know, that sneaker!_

"Nonsense, Mr Snippy! They are just embarrassed. But if you think you can dance," Captain paused, jabbing a finger at the snappish sniper, "feel free to join them. Actually, I was wondering if you two managed to learn something during your awfully long absence. Show me your dancing skills, minions!" he ordered. "Tanzt, tanzt sonst seid ihr verloren!"

Pilot was more than certain that Mr Snippy didn't understand the last sentence either. Nevertheless, it sounded kinda gloomy, so they both knew better than to take this order lightly.

They exchanged glances. The sniper was looked about to protest, but before he could, Pilot moved closer and whispered, "Please, Snippy. Don't spoil it, ok?" With that, he offered a hand to him. "May I?"

The other stared at him for a moment and finally nodded his agreement.

They hadn't practice as much as they should have. As a matter of fact, they hadn't practiced at all. However, the dance seemed easier for some reason. Maybe because Pilot was too tired for his usual erratic movements, so Snippy could keep up with him without tripping over his own feet.

"Dance, my minions! Dance!" Captain encouraged, and Pilot had to admit that he was almost pleased with his dancing partner.

Mr Snippy had apparently got it at last. He didn't try to resist (as he had done before). Instead, he let Pilot lead. That resulted in a more or less satisfying outcome.

Unfortunately, Pilot didn't remember the whole choreography. He decided to shorten the dance slightly and skipped directly to the lifting part. He hoped that the sniper would do the jump correctly. He also hoped he had enough strength to not to drop the man. Crashing to the ground would make Snippy furious for sure. Not to mention that it would ruin their performance.

He held out his arms and gave the signal to begin. The other hesitated, but not for too long.

They did the lift. It went surprisingly swiftly. Funny, how the escape-from-mutated-monsters-to-the-roof event had paid off.

After a few seconds Pilot attempted to put his fellow minion down safely. But before Snippy's feet could touch solid ground, they both lost their balance.

_Right,_ Pilot thought,_ we have never tried a proper landing._

In the end, they somehow managed not to fall. Nevertheless, their final pose was not very graceful, teetering precariously with arms windmilling before finally regaining a vertically upright position. Pilot started to worry that Captain would be unimpressed.

Luckily, their leader clapped his hands, most evidently contented.

"That was a rather interesting interpretation of the dance I taught you. Of course, not as delicious as mine, but it will do," he summed up. "It looks like the mission to find Trust indeed made some profit for you."

The two minions breathed a sigh of relief.

"Speaking of which, where is my Trust?"

Both of them went silent, not knowing what to say to that. Snippy found his voice first.

"Trust is immaterial. It's not something that you can actually see. But I'd say we found it today, wouldn't you Pilot?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mr Snippy!" Captain told him sharply before Pilot could say a word. "Are you assuming that I wouldn't be able to see something as big as a satellite? The Television Relay Using Small Terminals is quite a big device, don't you know?"

"What? You wanted some bloody device?"

"What else I could want for a wedding gift! I told you before, without TRUST there is nothing left in marriage! You two failed your mission... your Captain is disappointed!" he said dramatically.

Snipster made an angry sound, while Pilot made a sad one.

"Now, get back to searching for my TRUST!" came the harsh order. "I don't want to see you until you find one!"

"Are you kidding me?" the jiggly slug snapped, but before he could continue expressing his frustration, Pilot took him by the arm and dragged him outside the club, in a move reminiscent of an angry bouncer.

As they left the building, he let Snippy go.

"Keep moving, you shoe! I know what to do next."

"What?" the sniper hissed, sounding on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"We're gonna ask The Armadillo Man. He might have seen the TRUST at the Supabarn; he might even have bought one."

Judging by the frankly appalling number of obscenities coming from Mr Snippy's mouth, he didn't like the idea very much.

"Just think about it," Pilot tried to convince his snappish companion. "If he doesn't have it, we will simply take my blue tiara back and go search elsewhere. Multitasking, right?"

And with that, he walked off into the darkness of the nuclear night, once again a man on a mission.

Snippy rolled his eyes and followed.

* * *

**- end -**

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**Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated ~ =)**

**8: And so the adventure comes to an end! Thank you so, so much to every who has read, fav'd, subscribed to or otherwise supported this story. Particular thanks go to **GelibeanH20, The Joker's Ears and Eyes, Silvermoon of Forestclan, toeki, Milkymoon101, Jorda96, CharlieK, LiquoriceLaw **and the anonymous reviewer.** **A special shoutout to **Zaci **for being constantly supportive and inspirational.**

**Thanks to **alexiuss **for creating the amazing world of RA and being kind enough to review and comment both here and on deviantART.****  
**

**Finally, thanks to **temarcia**, my amazing collaber, partner-in-crime, the brains behind Armadillo Man, and she-who-wrote-the-superb-Pilot-voice. I had great fun with this story :)**

**Tem would also like to thank **Worstcase** for support and motivation :)**


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